


Young Punks

by Coyacoonadillo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ana Amari is the glue holding this cluster together, Blackwatch, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Sombra, Explicit Language, Gen, Reyes Strays, this was supposed to be sombra-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-28 11:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coyacoonadillo/pseuds/Coyacoonadillo
Summary: A routine mission brings on two unorthodox teammates and internal conflict, only some of which is about coffee. Sombra and Jesse are both picked up by Blackwatch and Overwatch, and shenanigans ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No beta read we die like men. Same universe as Bullets, Bugs, and Broken Things.

It was nice to have her boys back together again, Ana thought. This operation was on short notice, and neither a full Overwatch or a full Blackwatch team could be formed in time, so the two combined. The two Strike Commanders kept their bickering to a minimum in front of their forces, at least. Now, they sat behind cover, Gabriel watching the targets through a pair of binoculars, herself through her own rifle scope, and Jack stood with his arms crossed, waiting to command.

The majority of the criminals had cleared out when Overwatch set off the initial warning charge, toppling one of the box cars into the original path of the payload of weaponry. They let the dust settle before moving in, but were stopped by the commanders when they heard a commotion. Two gangsters left, one Deadlock and one Los Muertos. The Deadlock gangster had taken up inside the abandoned diner, taking potshots at the Los Muertos gangster, who darted from cover to cover without a shot.

“Amari, can we move in and take the damn thing yet?” She could hear his foot tapping in the dust behind her.

Without moving from her scope, she replied, “If you want to blow the payload and all your men to kingdom come, be my guest. Let these last two exhaust each other before we spook them and end up with a triggered munitions cart.”

Gabriel snorted. “At this rate, the Deadlock kid is going to run out of rounds before long, anyway.”

The commanding officers waited in silence, broken only by the wind tearing through the canyon and carrying indistinct shouts from the altercation past the cover. The airborne dust collected in goggles, gears, and wrinkles like it was going out of style. Good thing Ana didn’t _have_ wrinkles. Poor boys, wiping dust from the crevices of worry lines. The dust on her scope was becoming annoying, though. Waiting was a good idea, a better idea than either of the Strike Commanders had offered, but it was taking too long, even for a trained sniper. She could feel the impatience of the men at her back pressing down like a heavy wool coat in summer.

“You boys stay here,” she said, rising into a low crouch and lowering her rifle.

“You’re barely older than us, Ana--”

“We’re the superior officers here,” Jack said, cutting off Gabriel’s complaint. “We give the orders.”

“Alright,” she said, acquiescing to play to Jack’s pride. “Here’s an idea. I get a closer look at the leftovers from the fight, and let you know when it’s safe to send in the squad.”

“Fine, but you can’t just--”

This time, Ana cut off Jack. “Go alone? Jack, sweetheart, you walk like a stoned elephant. The rest of you at least just walk like sober elephants. I’m the only one here qualified.”

Gabriel poorly stifled a snort, then sneezed as the dust invaded, unwelcome in his nose. No one laughed at his undignified sound, but more for fear of repeating his mistake than of his wrath. No matter how Gabriel Reyes liked to carry himself as a mean, ruthless commander valuing discipline above all else, he cared for his team better than some mothers Ana knew.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and started walking away, barely bothering to keep low. The remaining gang members seemed more concerned with each other than any encroaching party, after all. Walking away would keep Jack from having to word her own plan better and phrase it as an order to preserve his own pride.

Ana reached a much closer ridge with no incident, not even indication that she was noticed at all. From here, it was much easier to hear what the gangsters were yelling and pick out more precise details. Through her scope, she could see the Deadlock gangster inside the diner poke his head out from behind a counter periodically, a ridiculous Stetson askew and concealing his features from her vantage point. The Los Muertos kid sported an equally absurd bright pink mohawk bigger than she was and moved calmly in plain sight of the cowboy.

With a little effort, she could parse most of what they were shouting. It was honestly easier without the two commanders bickering behind her.

“I'm warnin’ ya, kid! Back off the cart before I...and _throw you in the canyon_!”

“...my mine field, so _have fun with that_! Just surrender already so you can save yourself some time and shame.”

“The mines are...and _you could step on one as easy as me_ …”

Nothing new of note beyond the minefield Pink mentioned. Turning her scope to investigate the area around Pink, Ana saw a mess of spent rocket casings and food cans stashed behind a rock, out of Cowboy's sight. Around Pink was a patternless mess of bumps in the dust of the road, fresh dirt raised in mounds of the same size and shape as the pieces of garbage behind the rock. Ah. Clever Pink.

It would be most beneficial to the team if both gangsters could be secured for questioning, she thought as if she was already penning the mission report, as both Deadlock and Los Muertos kept showing up on Overwatch’s radar and information on either would be well appreciated.

“Amari, checking in,” she said with a hand to her ear, hardly waiting for a response. “The pink one is clever, but I think she is out of ammunition. I will handle the Deadlock member, your team can secure Pink.”

Jack huffed, clearly miffed about someone else dictating the plans, but apparently couldn't think of a better one. “Alright, Amari. On your signal.”

Oh, that _sweet_ rush of power. Poor Jack. She would buy him some cookies later.

Watching the Deadlock kid carefully, Ana prepared her sleep dart. Pink did not seem willing to check her sides, not when a stressed and fully armed enemy gangster sat in a fortified position across the way.

All Ana needed was one clear shot. The cowboy stood again, a heavy revolver in hand, staring down the pocked road at Pink. “Now.” She fired the sleep dart into the meat of the cowboy’s arm and watched him stagger, then fall. The distant scramble of the mixed Overwatch and Blackwatch team to capture Pink echoed through the canyon.

Slipping through the side door on light feet, she stepped inside. The floor was a mess of shell casings and smears of blood on old, dusty and sun-bleached tile. In one of the booths, a man in spurs and a long coat was laid out, dead. There was enough blood and shells to come from at least a half dozen more gangsters, though.

At her feet lay the cowboy, fingers still clutching that damned revolver. It was out of ammunition anyways. She pried that from his fingers and tucked it into her belt before investigating him more closely. Crouching beside him, she pushed back his hat to get a better look at his face. He was young, but older than her own Fareeha. Around twenty, twenty-one at most. His facial hair was poorly executed, nicks along his jawline indicating he tried to shave where he had no business bothering to.

Kicking the remaining, mostly empty arms aside, she raised her hand to her ear again. “Deadlock target secure. I have another sleep dart in case he wakes up from naptime early.”

This time, Gabriel responded, “Pink will be lucky if she makes it all the way back to the base. She bit Morrison and he's _pissed_.”

“Gabriel, kindly remind Strike Commander Morrison that killing prisoners because they're annoying is not standard procedure.”

“Of course. Two agents coming your way to help transport the prisoner.”

“I can get him to the ship myself, Reyes. Don't you underestimate me.”

She heard muffled laughter from the other end. Gabe must have covered his comm, however ineffectively. “No te preocupes, Captain. But waking up to three people with guns is a helluva lot scarier than one little lady with a gun, and might make him more willing to talk.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You just rolled your eyes didn't you?”

“...See you on board, Commander.” With a click, she cut off the comms and sat silently next to the cowboy. His pulse still seemed fine, at least.

In a short time, the promised agents showed up, both of Gabriel's Blackwatch crew. The cowboy seemed to come to just in time, with another sleep dart pointed right at his neck. Despite sleep-slurred complaints in an accent so thick it barely seemed English, he came willingly enough. Albeit with an agent holding each arm and Captain Ana Amari walking behind, ready to knock him out at short notice.

As they began to cross the mess left behind by Pink, he began to struggle, digging his heels in and trying to stay in place, cursing about the “goddamn minefield I’m not crossin’ that--”

Ana walked around the two Blackwatch agents, kicked dirt off of one of the “mines,” and picked up a rusted, empty can of beans, holding it in front of the still-groggy cowboy’s face.

He blinked, taking a moment to register exactly how he'd been fooled before going into a verbal rampage about “that fuckin’ little she-devil I'm gonna skin her alive six ways to Sunday I swear to _God.”_

Ana snorted. The trip would be amusing at least. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana, Gabe, and Jack try to handle the punks. Results may vary.

En route, the gangsters were kept as far apart as possible following the Deadlock kid’s attempt to break loose and kick Pink in the face. Jack oversaw everyone getting safely strapped in, then proceeded to spend most of the flight back sulking and rubbing his hand, drilling a death glare into Pink and Gabriel. Some words had probably been exchanged, and Ana would bet good money Pink had bitten Jack square on the hand.

Back on base, the two gangsters were shuffled off to interrogation rooms to sit and stew for an hour or three before Jack would deign speak to them.

After Jack got his hand properly checked out by Dr. Ziegler and yes, he was fine, no, it's not infected, Jack stop being a pissbaby, he decided to start the interrogations with the perpetrator of this horrendous crime. Leaving Gabriel and Ana outside by the one-way mirror, he went inside and sat down across from Pink.

The first thing Ana noticed was her Mohawk drooping presumably with sweat and blood and the humidity of the interrogation room. It flopped across her head like a bad, cotton candy pink undercut, all size and intimidation lost. Hell, Pink looked smaller than Ana had imagined, younger even than Fareeha.

“They're both _kids,_ Gabriel,” she said while watching Jack introduce himself through the glass.

“I know.”

“We picked up two kids for interrogation.”

“Ana, trust me, I know. Makes you wonder how young these gangs are recruiting.”

With a heavy sigh, she watched the interrogation.

With a pad of paper in front of him, Jack asked, “You're with Los Muertos, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you doing outside that diner?”

“My job.”

“Why didn't you scatter with the rest of your kind?”

“Doing my job.”

“What's your name?”

“Sombra.”

“I already know your code name, what's your real name?”

“Sombra.”

Ana could see Jack’s shoulders tense, his hands grip the paperwork ever so slightly tighter. His lip curled in annoyance, but Pink-- _Sombra_ barely seemed to register his change in attitude. “Your real name, kid.”

“Look, white bread, the only name I've got that matters to anyone on this godforsaken rock is Sombra.” She puffed a stray lock of hair back into place in the ex-mohawk with an eyeroll that strayed dangerously close to boredom.

“For the last time, kid, _your name_.” The edges of the paperwork crumpled under Jack’s fingers. The look he bored into Sombra was not one of kindness.

Sombra shrugged again, all teenage rebellion veiled tissue-thin. “It's Sombra, amigo. I don't know what you expect.”

Jack’s chair scraped across the floor with an unholy noise as he stood up suddenly, planting his hands on the table and leaning over Sombra. Ana could practically see cartoonish smoke leaking out of his ears. “We’re going to find your legal name one way or another, kid, because the sooner I finish this paperwork the sooner you're off of my base and out of my hair!” He remained there for a moment, fuming down at the kid in the pink hair with a day-glo skull painted on her face.

A moment too long. For a split second, Ana saw a truly devilish grin flash across Sombra's face, and an instant later she'd stood with her chin tucked to her chest, slamming her head into Jack’s own face. The kid watched, smirking, as Jack stumbled backward, covering his lip and nose with one hand.

In the next instant, backup had rushed inside to secure Sombra against another assault, hooking her handcuffs to the underside of the table.

As Jack stormed through the door out of the interrogation room, Ana elbowed Gabriel hard in the ribs, reminding him to stop laughing before Jack sees. Or at least, stop laughing so damn loudly.

Wiping his lip, Jack approached his fellow officers with indignation burning hot enough under his skin Ana could practically feel its heat. “She's staying in there to stew until we get some answers out of her,” he said with a huff. Then he turned on his heel and crossed to the far end of the detention block, where the cowboy waited.

Ana took one more look in Sombra's cell and caught a stare full of too much mischief and twinkle for someone in imminent danger of a life sentence or worse. Sombra held eye contact even as Ana left to follow Jack. Even as Ana turned her back, she could feel those too-curious purple eyes on the back of her neck.

Time to handle the cowboy, then. By the time she reached the one way mirror, standing beside Gabriel, Jack was already inside with the interrogation underway.

“...that skull-faced bitch already give ya what for?” The cowboy snickered at Jack, but the Strike Commander kept his cool. Just another teenager trying to control the conversation.

“And she's going to the shittiest, most crowded prison I can find for the rest of her life.”

“You can put me in there too for all I care, old guy. Me an’ her are gonna duke it out, and I don't plan on dyin’.”

Jack rubbed his temples, facing away from the two way mirror so Ana could only guess his expression. “Look, kid, I can get you out of here and maybe get you a proper haircut if you just make this goddamn paperwork a _little_ easier. Now what's your name?”

The cowboy leaned back in his chair at a precarious angle, feet kicked up on the table carelessly. “The name’s McCree.”

“Your full name, kid.”

“Jesse McCree. Are we done here?”

Jack sighed in relief. That's more information than he got out of Sombra. “Deadlock, right?”

The kid gestured downward, incredulous. “‘Course, ya dumbass.”

Gabriel elbowed Ana in the side, commenting, “His belt buckle says Deadlock. You gotta admit, the kid’s got flair.”

Ana rolled her eyes, watching the interrogation with half-hearted interest. It had been a long day, and the weariness was clear on Jack and Gabriel as well. Gabriel did a better job of hiding it, for her sake at least, but even the best can't hide yawns well. Besides Jesse McCree’s snide remarks and spitting at Jack at least once, the interrogation was routine. No really useful information was gained, but Ana learned a whole new armory of insults. Jack didn't push, didn't make offers, just recited the list of questions.

“He's exhausted, Reyes,” Ana murmured, half to herself.

“Yeah. I'm gonna tap in.” Gabe uncrossed his arms and knocked on the two way mirror.

Jack turned around and looked up, face and eyes tired, before leaving the table and heading for the door. Stepping outside and closing the door behind him, he looked at Ana and Gabriel, shaking his head. “I'm not getting anything better out of him.”

Gabe patted his shoulder, his hand lingering to give a reassuring squeeze. “I know, Jack. Give me a shot with him.”

The Strike Commander nodded, closing his eyes. As the Blackwatch Commander went inside, Jack leaned back on the wall next to Ana, taking a deep breath. “At least he didn't mention the statue.”

“Just you wait,” Ana said with a mischievous grin.

Inside, Gabriel stood by the table, across from the cowboy. “Alright, McCree, I’m Commander Gabriel Reyes of Blackwatch. No, you don't know me, and I don't know you. Frankly, I don't care enough to know you unless you want to cooperate.”

Jesse McCree straightened in his seat, the lazy disregard he'd shown Jack fading quickly in the face of a man not already tired both of duties and of obnoxious criminals.

“You've got a choice ahead, McCree. Either you're going to rot in jail for the rest of your short, miserable life, or you can cooperate and I'll consider you for my spec ops team.”

The kid had started leaned all the way back, slowly straightening, and now leaning forward, as if drawn to a new possible future. Meanwhile, Jack’s chin had sunk to his chest, dozing lightly. Ana decided to allow it.

“You're a half decent shot, you're stubborn, and you're loyal, no matter how misplaced those loyalties are. You're a strong candidate, kid, as long as you fucking cooperate. Now once again, why was your gang in the canyon?”

This put McCree on the defensive again, glancing away from Gabe's trademark penetrating stare. “What makes ya think I'm gonna just rat on ‘em that easy?”

“Kid,” Gabe's voice was softer now, less harsh, “they left you _behind_. They heard big guns coming and scattered without a second thought. They don't care about you, they used you for your skill and loyalty and threw you away.” He paused, giving the cowboy time to consider. “You can have another chance, McCree. Put your loyalty somewhere that matters, kid. Cooperate now, throw in with Blackwatch, and we won't leave you behind. That, or you and Pink can both go rot.”

The cowboy didn't have a witty retort to that. He was silent, head lowered with the brim of his hat obscuring his face, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over the Deadlock belt buckle. Finally, he looked up. “We...we were there for a deal with Los Muertos. Sellin’ arms, some explosives, you’ve probably looked over the cart already. I don't know who shot first, and I don't know when everyone left. What else do you want?” His voice was low and his eyes still hidden from Ana’s view by that damn Stetson.

“That's all for now. Gracias, McCree.” Gabriel stood straight again. Ana hadn't realized how much he'd been looming over the kid, how the shadows made his face fierce, until he was standing at habitual attention again, proper lighting smoothing his features.

As Gabriel left through the door, Ana heard a muttered final reply. “De nada.” With the door closed once more, he looked over to Ana and Jack, chest inflated with pride.

“In all fairness, I think you need to handle Sombra this time around,” she said, jerking a thumb at Jack. “I don't think any amount of coffee will let him handle another teen today.”

Gabriel shrugged in a quick movement, then reached past Ana to put his hand on Jack’s shoulder again. “Hey, Morrison. Despierte.”

Jack’s eyes scrunched tighter closed and now off balance, he started sliding down the wall, only caught by Ana’s quick action. He shook his head and groaned, as if to clear away drowsiness, straightening up with the help of Ana’s steady hand.

“Up all night polishing your statue, huh, Boy Scout?” The twinkle in Gabriel's eyes betrayed his joking nature, though he may threaten to kill anyone who used any derivation of the word “twinkle” to describe him.

Jack rolled his eyes while thanking Ana with a silent squeeze of her hand. “Manage to get anything out of him?”

“Sure did, don't you worry your blonde little head about it.”

“You know, with the statue and holo spots, I would think his head might be pretty big,” Ana interjected with a mischievous grin.

“You're _right_.” Gabriel crossed his arms and leaned back a little, in an exaggerated pose of scholarly wisdom. “Soon enough, we'll have to requisition bigger doors on the drop ship to accommodate his--”

“Will you two knock it off.” Jack’s tone was flat, but more mildly annoyed than upset. If he wasn't used to their needling yet, he never would be. Allowing another moment for them to settle down, he then asked, “So how'd you get him to talk?”

Gabe leaned comfortably against the wall near the other two, Jesse McCree visible just over his shoulder through the one way mirror. The boy's hat was pulled down to cover his features, but his busy fingers picking at the fraying seams of his vest betrayed his discomfort. Turning your back even on those who turned on you must be difficult, at the least.

“Made him an ultimatum,” Gabe said with a shrug, and Ana noted Jack’s tired, approving nod. “Told him he'd either spend the rest of his life eating in a prison cafeteria, or he could join Blackwatch.”

“You _what.”_

“He's a kid, Jack,” Ana said. “He has too much living ahead of him to ruin it now.”

“He's a grown man, Ana. He made his bed and he can sleep in it for all I care,” Jack said.

“Look, whatever you think, _I'm_ the Blackwatch Strike Commander. Not you,” Gabriel pointed out. “He's my responsibility now. I'll keep him in line, or send him off in cuffs.”

Jack took a deep breath through his nose, letting the issue hang in the air for a brief moment before acquiescing. “...Fine.” Turning on his heel, he added, “Time to handle Pink.”

Ana grabbed his shoulder, squeezing gently. “About that, Jack..."

“What.” His tone was still flat and tired.

“First, coffee. You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“Ana it’s not that bad. I’ve had a nap, I’ll sleep later,” Jack said, trying to brush aside. “We’ve got a job to get back to.”

“And Gabe’s going to handle that,” Ana said. “This is not a discussion.”

“You don’t decide that, Amari, I am your superior officer-”

“And you couldn’t get a drop of intel out of Pink, then immediately passed out. Gabe’s convinced McCree to join _us_.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue the point further, then closed it again, ruminating.

While he thought, Ana added, “You’re too much of an authority figure. You’re the face of the organization, you practically radiate law enforcement. On the other hand, Gabe may be intimidating, but that’s just his presence. Sorry, habibi.” She glanced over at Gabe, who shrugged with a grin which didn’t exactly fit her description.

“Just lemme give it a whirl, Morrison. If I don’t get anything in half an hour or less, you can do all the paperwork you like.”

Jack spent another moment in thought, lips pursed. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

“Aw, Jack, you shouldn’t have,” Gabe said, elbowing the other Strike Commander, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Let’s at least check in on Pink before coffee. See if she’s softened up any in the cell,” Jack said with a huff. Ana knew how much it took to get him to lean on anyone’s advice, even when they were trying to take care of him. Still, she saw no reason to let his tired ass walk back in again and get caught off guard again, receiving a complimentary bleeding lip for his troubles.

The three walked back over to Sombra’s cell, Jack not in the lead but abreast of his friends. To be this lax with appearances and propriety, he must need a triple shot of espresso. Possibly intravenously.

The two men watching the door stepped aside as they approached, no need to show identification when traveling with the two Strike Commanders. Well, no need to show identification except when under scrutiny anyways, all of the members of Overwatch knew Captain Amari, sharpest shot in the organization and one of the very few individuals with a modicum of authority over Jack Morrison. Legendary might be stretch, but still.

Jack didn’t open the door, no need to give Sombra the impression that she would have anything to do or anyone to talk to for God knows how long. Dropping in now could ruin their chances to easily get information from her. Instead, he peered in through the two way mirror, then squinted. Raising his hand to shield his eyes from the negligible glare, he all but pressed his face against the surface before stepping back with a scowl and a quick signal to the guards. “She’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still no beta read, and if any of the non-English words or phrases are painfully wrong im so very sorry. please continue to enjoy or at least tolerate this self-indulgent au i crafted with my own two hands from only the finest of alphanumeric characters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana searches for the missing Sombra, becomes Sherlock fucking Holmes.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ana said, while Gabe smacked his face with the heel of his hand and a groan.

“She’s just not _fucking_ there.” Ana could almost hear Jack’s teeth grinding as he slammed a fist into the two way mirror. “We’ve got a hostile gone rogue somewhere loose on the base. Lock everything down and start searching. I want eyes in the armory ASAP.” He turned and looked over his shoulder at the guards, who seemed a mix of stunned and embarrassed that somehow, the prisoner had escaped on their watch. “What are you waiting for? _Move!_ ”

Ana watched them scatter, patting her sidearm with satisfaction. At least they hadn’t been back on base long enough to unload everything, and her rifle was still near at hand, if it would be needed. She hoped it wouldn’t. Despite the day-glo skeleton paint and definitely criminal history, Sombra was too similar to Fareeha. Too close in age. The similarity was fragile, and she couldn’t explain it beyond the fire she spat and the blatant disregard for anything other than the here and now.

While Jack shouted into his earpiece, repeating his call for lockdown, Ana stepped into the interrogation room for a closer look. Like all such rooms, it was sparse, consisting of a table, a chair for the interrogator, and a chair for the interrogated, facing the broad two way mirror. She walked around, drinking in every detail from the unlocked cuffs hooked to the underside of the table to the drops of blood from Jack’s lip splattered on the table, to the dust in the chair.

Wait.

Why was the chair dusty when Sombra had just sat in it?

Moving her hand to the confiscated weapon at her side out of reflex, she slowly looked up. One of the ceiling tiles was askew. “Hmph. She's got a taste for the classics.”

“What was that?” Gabe leaned in the doorway.

Standing by the table and dusty chair, Ana turned to face the door, pointing up with her free hand. “She's in the vents.”

Gabe quickly relayed this information to Jack, who began shouting orders louder as Ana left the room. “I'm going to help look,” she said, not waiting for a response as she walked away.

“Ana I can't even get the word out across the whole base yet, you're not going out there solo,” Jack said, still fuming at the escape.

Drawing and twirling the pistol she'd confiscated from McCree, she said with a grin, “I can take care of myself better than you, Jack.”

Not giving Jack a chance to respond, Gabe took his arm and started steering him the other way. “We need to get to the comms room and get the word out from there, or fix whatever’s keeping us from doing that. I'll put out the call to Blackwatch.”

“She's not getting into our arms or leaving this base.”

“That’s the plan, Morrison.”

As her boys hurried towards the comms room, Ana started down the hall, trying to reason where Sombra could be, hiding or not. There was little she actually knew about the kid. Sombra seemed stubborn, resilient, dangerously curious, and fairly foolhardy. Too curious and foolhardy to remain in the ventilation, she supposed. Either making her escape or sticking her nose where it had no business sniffing.

On a whim, she turned and headed for the offices of the ranked officers, where paperwork reigned supreme and graphite always seemed to taint the air. What would be a bigger draw for a nosy girl than the offices of the commanding officers of Overwatch?

Down the hallway, she heard quiet clicking which stopped as soon as she turned into the hall, though her steps were quiet. Could be the pipes, but Ana figured it was worth an investigation.

She passed her own office, door open onto a thus-far ignored mountain of paperwork she hoped to pawn off to Jack or Gabe later. Well. Probably Jack. None of the papers inside had been disturbed, no dust tracked into the room. Gabe’s office was locked from the inside, but looking inside revealed no dust, completed paperwork in a neat stack at the corner of his desk, and nothing even powered on.

The door to Jack’s office was open, his stacked folders of paperwork overflowing onto chairs rendered unusable for sitting, his computer humming softly. That in itself was not suspicious, as he often forgot to power everything down in his rush from one task to another. In the glow of the screen, she saw the chair pushed back and out of the way, as if in a hurry. The seat of the chair was dusty. Looking up, she saw a ceiling tile similarly askew, looking around the room, she saw no other sign of Sombra.

Ana stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind her. Not that it would keep anyone inside, but it would certainly slow down an escape attempt. She crossed the room to crouch by the desk and investigate underneath, but no sign of Sombra or her pink mohawk. She straightened up and took a closer look at Jack’s computer. Folders were opened haphazardly across the screen, and a small purple loading bar slowly ticked toward completion in the bottom right corner.

Nothing in the room moved. The door remained closed, the desk chair remained in place, the only signs that time had not stopped were the dust motes drifting in the light cast by the screen and the slow ticking of the progress bar.

Ana knew in her gut that Sombra was here, and she was fairly certain the kid could outwait her. She would be called elsewhere before Sombra finally caved and made the mistake to give away her position.

She sighed and watched the dust motes, biding her time as she tried to think of a way to pin down the slippery escapee. They danced their seemingly random waltz, twists and swoops and drifts all driven by changes in the air. They moved this way and that, some slow, some...slightly less slow. At the edge of the light cast by the computer, they seemed to dance around the edge of something. There was a void in the thin cloud of motes.

Ana had the practice and self-control to school her face, not revealing she had discovered anything beyond the eddies of dust. Slowly tracking her eyes away, as if following another mote, she broke the silence. “What you did was impressive.”

No response.

“Slipping out of custody, sneaking all the way here. You know, the whole base is searching for you.”

No response.

“You could reveal yourself now, and save us all a great deal of trouble. Or we can wait here until one of us gives up.”

No response.

“Or--” Lightning-quick, Ana shot out her arm, clamping her hand down tight on whatever caused the void in the motes. She heard a sharp, hissed breath, and pulled what she assumed was Sombra, invisible, in close, wrapping her other arm around the definite form. Sombra, still unseen, thrashed to free herself, cursing under her breath.

Ana heard a dull thud as her wild attempts to escape hit the desk with force, disturbing Jack’s papers.

“Ow _fuck_.” Starting near the desk, a knee began to materialize from violet pixels. Then a leg. Then in less than a second, Ana’s armful of Sombra was fully visible, disheveled and squirming.

Ana released the upper arm she had originally grabbed, drawing her dart gun and pressing the barrel against Sombra’s neck in warning.

Sombra stopped moving, and Ana felt every one of the kid’s muscles tense, then slump. “What do you want?”

Ana felt a twinge of pity at the defeat in her voice. “I’d prefer you not run around on this base, putting everyone on high alert. It’s inconvenient.” Then, she pressed her shoulder to her ear, clicking on her comms. “Target secure. Requesting backup at my location.” With another press, she turned it back off.

“If you get me off this base, I can get you what you want. Power? Money? Information?” Sombra turned her head, as if she could look over her shoulder and look Ana in the eye. Of course, she couldn’t unless she could rotate her head one hundred and eighty degrees, but Ana could see nervous urgency hiding in her face, underneath a mask of calm. “I can get you what you want if you get me off this rock, amiga.”

“I’m sure you could,” Ana said, matter-of-factly. “But you’re posing a threat to my men, and I can’t in good conscience let whatever you’ve learned in this room enter the info market.” Then her voice softened. “Cooperate and you’ll be fine.”

“Like hell I’ll cooperate, _puta vieja_ ,” Sombra spat, her lip curling and distorting the skull painted on her face in eye-burning green. “No soy una pérfida, I’m not going to just turn on my friends because a bunch of suits wanna play cops.”

Ana heard boots echoing down the hallway. Reinforcements were inbound. “If you help us, we can help you.”

Then, the door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sombra called Ana an old bitch and insisted she's not a traitor.  
> As per usual, no beta read, no fact checking. Spanish isn't my native language, so please let me know about room for improvement. Enjoy my hastily crafted artisan au, grown by a lonely farmer gmo-free.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions.

The door was open again, lighting the room. Ana blinked hard as her eyes adjusted to the light and began to pick out the details of the figures backlit in the doorway. 

Gabe stood in front of a handful of others, shotguns drawn and at the ready, scanning the room for hostiles quickly from habit. When he saw Ana restraining Sombra and holding the threat of the dart gun, he visibly relaxed. “Jesus, Amari, if you had the situation under control you could at least tell us.” This was punctuated by a great clattering as the agents behind Gabe scrambled to get out of the way of the newly arrived Reinhardt, coming in hot. 

“It's handled, dears. But getting back to a secure location like this would be rather uncomfortable, don't you think?” Ana chuckled and Sombra ducked her head as if she could collapse in on herself and disappear again, fuming. 

Reinhardt grinned, a broad smile that all but split his face. “I am sure there was never any doubt you could handle yourself, my dear!” She couldn't help but notice Sombra tense once more at Reinhardt’s presence. 

Gabe sighed and holstered his shotguns, drawing instead a set of cuffs and approached slowly, the way you might approach a cornered animal. “Hands up front.”

With backup this close, Ana finally let go of Sombra, though she kept her dart gun trained on her until Gabe had her secure. Now she got a better look at the faintly glowing metal traced on Sombra’s back and head. Cybernetics on presumably either side of her head practically necessitated the silly mohawk she sported like a bird trying to seem larger with just a crest of feathers. Said mohawk now drooped pitifully, half-hanging in front of those too-curious eyes that still calculated, sizing up her odds.

Hands now free, Ana rolled her shoulders, working out the tightness in the muscles. She felt a massive hand on her shoulder and smiled at Reinhardt’s effort to rub her shoulders. “Regardless,” he said in a relative hush, “I am glad everyone returned unharmed.”

“Of course. Would you expect anything less?”

“Of course not.” As the rest of the squad turned to leave, Jack practically skidded into the hallway, catching his breath as he spotted Gabe and the others with Sombra and Ana half-leaning on Reinhardt. While he scrambled for words and authority, Reinhardt continued, “So, long day?”

Ana watched the small procession with prisoner make it almost all the way down the hall before straightening up to follow. “I think it'll get a lot longer before it ends.”

\--

Ana and Reinhardt took their time walking back to the interrogation room, where they had started. There was no rush, and Ana had not lied about the day being long. Hot tea and a nice blanket seemed wonderful right now, her pillow called her name. Still, the day had loose ends to tie up. 

By the time they made it to the interrogation room from which Sombra had first escaped, she was already thoroughly secured, with guards and security waiting at the ready. Gabe was already inside, and Jack had settled down to a simmering fuming state by the two way mirror. 

Ana walked over to join him and was immediately presented with a coffee practically shoved into her hands. She accepted the disposable cup graciously and took a sip, her nose wrinkling at the cheap, burnt taste. Still, the caffeine would be well-appreciated. Jack had already drained his identical cup, which was bent and slowly crushing in his hand as he watched the inside of the room.

Gabe approached Sombra and did not sit, instead standing across the table from her with his arms crossed. “Nice trick, kid. It won’t work again.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Gabriel Reyes.” Sombra held her head high, as if she could stare down her nose at the Blackwatch Commander looming over her. 

“Congratulations. You know my name. I hope that’s not all you wasted your time and trust to get in Jack’s office. You’re not in a good position to make threats, and you should know that.” Sombra opened her mouth as if to snipe back, but Gabe didn’t give her a chance. “You’re looking at a choice, kid. I’ve had this talk once today and I don’t want to waste my time with it again, so pay attention.”

She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her lips thin in annoyance.

“Life in prison or you can work for us. Frankly, you’d have to impress us, because we’ve already got a handful of moody young people and Jack isn’t keen to add you to the number. Bullying people with power has consequences.”

“He can’t seriously think about hiring her after what she’s already done,” Jack said in a hushed snarl next to Ana, the cup crumpling further in his grasp. Putting up a show and hiding disagreement in the brass from the rest of the organization, like had always been his job. Putting up a united face of Overwatch.

“You have to admit, you’re at least a little impressed,” Ana said.

“She broke out and broke into my office, she can’t be trusted.”

“She doesn’t have a reason to trust us, Jack. I won’t hold that against her until she hurts someone.”

Behind the glass, Sombra scoffed, unimpressed. “You’re not gonna trap me by threatening prison. I’ve seen worse.”

“See, the prison we’d have to send a security risk like you to is a little busy to put up with your wannabe Bond bullshit.” 

Sombra smirked. “Wannabe?”

“Your cybernetics, you’ve really got them tricked out, right? Helpful for all your escape attempts, hiding, cloaking, must be real nice to have those kinds of tools.” Gabe didn’t let her intrusion derail him at all. “They’re a security risk, and I’d be surprised if they just incapacitated them for your lifetime stay. You’re looking at complete removal or disabling, because you wouldn’t be worth the hassle.”

That wiped the smirk from her face. Now, it seemed Gabe had the upper hand. 

Gabe smiled, not malicious but patronizing. “I’ll make you the same offer I made the cowboy. You can work for us, on my specialty team. Of course, with restrictions. You won’t be trusted blindly. If you try  _ any _ bullshit, you’ll be out of my hands and in prison.” He was now leaning across the table, much like Jack had, but radiating indifference and inconvenience rather than rage. Unlike before, Sombra did not take advantage of the position for the momentary gratification of landing a hit. 

Unlike every second Ana had seen her before, Sombra broke eye contact. She looked to the blank wall to her side, subconsciously biting her lip as she thought. 

“I don’t have all day, kid.”

Jack breathed deep through his nose, closing his eyes. Blackwatch wasn’t his jurisdiction.

Sombra remained silent, staring at the blank wall as if words would materialize and she would be prompted to the best choice.

“...Alright.” Gabe straightened up and started to turn back to the door, his face almost unreadable. He was in the Commander Reyes mode, but Ana could almost pick out something like disappointment in his features, for a fleeting moment. 

“Wait.” Sombra looked back from the wall at Gabe, but still dodged his eye contact as he turned back around. “I’ve…pissed a lot of people off. Organizations, I guess.”

“Seems to be a skill of hers,” Jack interjected.

“To say they don’t want me around is a bit of an understatement.”

“You’re a risk,” Gabe said, nodding. “Understandable.”

“I can’t-- _ won’t _ stay unless you can keep them off my back,” Sombra said, deflating a little, as if her pride was a balloon she’d punctured.

“We protect our own.” Half-threat, half-promise, Commander Reyes replied. 

“...Yo me apunto.”

Jack side eyed Ana, muttering, “What’d she say?”

“She’s in.”

Jack sighed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe if i posted regularly and had a Schedule like Real Authors, I would get this thing beta read. Enjoy this half baked bonus chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the older new kid on the block. Angela and Reinhardt have differing opinions of him.

The physical was not standard, to say the least. 

Dr. Angela Ziegler looked over Jesse as quickly as she could, prescribing a bath first and foremost. He talked the whole time, much to Angela’s annoyance and Ana’s amusement as she jotted down notes for the exasperated and understaffed young doctor. 

“Say ah,” she said, wielding a tongue depressor.

Without missing a beat, Jesse said, “Course, doc, aaahhh...what’s this about anyways what’re ya lookin’ at back there?”

“I need you to open your mouth, not to talk. Hush,” Angela said.

Jesse wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth, allowing Angela to continue her checkup undisturbed as Ana chuckled. As Angela checked his eyes next, shining a small flashlight at each pupil, he piped up again. “Anythin’ wrong with me yet, doc?” His voice was cheerful, but Ana noticed his quick glances around the room, particularly to Ana’s sidearm and the exit. 

“Other than your inability to follow directions, no. Watch my finger, please.” Angela moved her index finger past his face, then back again, watching his eyes track. Then she stood up with a sigh. “Nothing appears unusual. You are as healthy as can be expected, although you would benefit from an improved diet with a higher caloric intake,” she said. Ana checked appropriate boxes and wrote  _ more food :)  _ in the miscellaneous space on Jesse’s notes.

Furrowing his brow, Jesse wore a smile as he visibly attempted to process something without showing his hand. He rubbed his arm, where his Deadlock tattoo was no longer partially covered by a torn and faded oversized button down, the winged skull practically staring Ana in the eye. 

With what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she leaned down near his side and stage whispered, “She means eat more.” She watched his cheeks turn red the moment he realized she’d caught on to his confusion, though who wouldn’t, and revealed she’d noticed his ignorance. “Don’t worry about it. Doctors use big words to intimidate people.”

Angela rolled her eyes and scoffed, and Jesse chuckled, only a little uncomfortable. Ana counted it a success. 

She did agree with Angela. Jesse had changed out of that ratty, stained, many-sizes-too-large shirt and vest and now wore the more appropriately-sized plain dark gray shirt which had been issued to him, along with the plain denim jeans he seemed ready to fight for in the commissary. Undisguised by the bulk of his clothing, he seemed scrawny despite his fairly athletic build. His eyes were too shadowed even without his hat, which sat on the examination table next to him, his shirt hung just a little too loose. Still smiling, she firmly underlined her recent note.

“That is all, you are done.” The young doctor waved Jesse off of her examination table, ignoring his needling attempts to strike up further conversation. “Go somewhere else now, I have other patients to attend to. Shoo.”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’, Jesus,” Jesse said, snatching his battered hat off the counter to which Angela had relegated it the moment he walked in. He tugged it down firmly over his mess of tangled curls and quickly covered the distance to the door before pausing and remembering to wait for Ana, his guard of the moment. With a sheepish grin, he paused in the doorframe and watched Ana expectantly, making a thinly veiled attempt not to stare at her sidearm. 

Ana made a point to stand slowly, brush imaginary eraser shavings off her lap, and give Angela a polite nod goodbye before moving to follow Jesse. 

“Bye, doc! See ya soon!” Jesse tipped the brim of his hat in what was most certainly an attempt to be gentlemanly and suave, but came off awkward and ungainly. Ana stifled a snort.

“Hopefully not. Don’t hurt yourself, McCree,” Angela said with a thick mixture of exhaustion and annoyance. 

Ana stepped outside with her charge, now confirmed free of fleas, eyesight problems, and the common cold, and stretched as he resettled his hat again, failing to hide discomfort as he looked around the hallway. After letting him fiddle with the damn brim a little longer, she leaned against the wall of the empty hallway, leveling a mostly-friendly gaze on the boy. “So. Jesse.”

He stirred, clearly taking a moment to remember to respond to his given name. “Yes ma’am?” There was a wariness to his voice that tugged Ana’s heart strings in a way she would rather not allow.

“About that conflict back in the canyon.”

He went stiff, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Oh, uh...heh. Sorry about that…”

“I’m the one who shot you. Don’t worry about that right now, though. I saw your shooting. Have you had a lot of practice?” She kept her tone light, not wanting to have him shut down on her. If there was a line, she had to find it and toe it the best she could, or risk losing ground or stagnating in place. 

His hand drifted to the side of his neck where her dart had hit him before. “Yeah, I grew up ‘round rifles and then Deadlock liked its members to have some talent an’ shit. I could fire anythin’ they put in my hands. I was kind of a sharpshooter for ‘em.” His chest puffed with pride for a moment, before deflating as he looked away from Ana and down the empty hallway. “So yeah, guess I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The adjustment from a gang to a liminal position in the international organization which scattered his gang must have costs beyond the immediately obvious. His new shirt issued by Overwatch left his Deadlock tattoo uncovered for the world to see, and an unsteady mixture of pride and shame danced on his face. 

Ana let her gaze soften-- she shouldn’t be this soft on a pseudo-recruit taken straight from a gang, Jack would lose his mind if he saw-- and adjusted the fold of her arms, straightening her shoulders. “You might say I’m Overwatch’s sharpshooter. I’d like to see you in a range sometime soon, maybe give you some pointers. There’s no point in taking on a new recruit if they’re not in top condition.” It would have been hard not to notice his eyes light up even if she had been blind. 

She could see moderate disbelief flash across his face, and spared a thought to the seemingly backwards idea of handing a weapon to a recent prisoner. Of course, if he did make a decision he might regret, she could always knock him out with her side arm. She doubted he wanted to go through that again.

“I, uh. I’d really appreciate that, ma’am. I’m always lookin’ to improve.” His voice was still the unstable mix of pride and uncertainty that belied his age. 

Ana couldn’t help a warm smile. “That’s the attitude we like to see.” It didn’t take a glance over his shoulder so much as a pair of half-functioning eyes to see Reinhardt looming at the end of the hallway. Not actually looming in a menacing manner, but by mere state of being large and still. Even the stern look on his face couldn’t conceal the laugh lines that decorated his face. 

“And that’s our cue.”

Jesse perked up as she spoke and turned to follow her line of sight, staring up at Reinhardt with a mixture of awe and discomfort. Not quite wariness, but no longer being the largest figure in the room definitely put him on edge.

“Captain Amari,” Reinhardt acknowledged with a nod.

“Jesse, this is Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm. Reinhardt, Jesse McCree, one of Gabe’s newest,” she said in her most professional tone.

The two men stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, sharing two very different flavors of apprehension, before Ana gave Reinhardt a forceful nod, tipping her head toward the cowboy. 

“Oh! Wonderful to meet you, young McCree,” he said, extending a large hand which all but engulfed Jesse’s own in a firm handshake. “It is always good to have new recruits. Young blood keeps us strong!” His nearly archaic phrasings never failed to make Ana crack a smile.

Reinhardt’s minor shift in demeanor to his more customary loud and friendly state seemed to dissolve the traces of apprehension in Jesse’s face, which melted into a lopsided grin as he shook Reinhardt’s hand. “Pleasure t’ meet ya too, sir.”

Of course Reinhardt wasn’t stupid. Even as he smiled and gave a hearty laugh while greeting Jesse, Ana could see the slight tension in his cartoonishly large shoulders and alert movements of his eyes. Though he did not implicitly trust this desert gunslinger-turned-recruit, he would be sure to make Jesse McCree feel comfortable in this organization, at least enough to earn his loyalty. For all his size and bravado, Reinhardt Wilhelm was both kind to a fault and capable, and Ana trusted him to be. 

“Lieutenant Reinhardt, if you could show this young man to the showers then the mess, doctor’s orders,” she said with a quick pat on Jesse’s shoulder. 

He didn’t so much flinch as immediately find the source of the sudden touch, fixing Ana with a surprisingly calculating stare that lasted half a breath before he grinned again and ducked his head, moving toward Reinhardt and down the hallway.

“Aye-aye, Captain Amari!”

As the two almost turned to leave the hallway, she cupped her hands and shouted as if across a vast distance much larger than a service hallway, “And don’t forget to  _ eat!” _

“Yes ma’am!” came Jesse’s reply as the rounded the corner, obscured by Reinhardt. 

Once they left her sight, she let out a sigh. There was still one more physical to babysit, but the look that Jesse McCree had given her...it had only lasted a split second, but seared itself into her mind. She hadn’t assumed he was stupid, but maybe  _ carefree _ , at least in a comfortable environment. Heading back into the exam room to help Angela with the paperwork before moving on to the next, hopefully less tightly-wound patient, she couldn’t shake the stare.

It seemed there was more to this kid than met the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta live free outback youngpunks  
> once again i wonder why i pick a character that isn't my muse to be pov, but still. i love this au and will subject you all to it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra is perfectly calm, thank you very much.

Sombra seemed unsure of whether to shrink into a singularity or stake legal claim to the exam bench as her own territory. Her dayglo green skull paint was smeared, mohawk limp over one side of her cybernetics, and her fingers tapped silently on the bench beside her as she watched Angela with intensity. 

“So you don’t know your age or any pre-existing conditions of which I should be aware?” Angela asked in a tired, almost bored tone. 

“No.”

“Wonderful.” Still bored and flat. The doctor approached Sombra holding a blood pressure cuff, then, catching sight of still hands and dangerously wary eyes, stopped just short of latching it around Sombra’s arm. “I’m going to take your blood pressure. It will not even hurt,” she said, now with some of the annoyance drained from her voice. “I only require your arm.” 

After a moment of hesitation, Sombra offered her arm, with her hand balled into a fist and arm tense. 

Connecting the cuff securely around Sombra’s arm, Angela added, “I need you to relax. I cannot get an accurate reading if you are not calm.”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Sombra said through gritted teeth.

“I do not mean it as an insult,” Angela said, clearly miffed at the overall inconvenience. “If you are in any way anxious it could distort the test results--”

“I’m  _ not _ anxious, not like you could do anything to make me nervous,” Sombra said, tensing as if to push herself up from the bench.

“It would be in your best interest, Sombra, to be truthful with me. If you insist you are calm and you are diagnosed with hypertension you may find yourself restricted and with treatments dangerous to those who do not have high blood pressure.”

“Well maybe you should--”

“If you would just cooperate we could be done far more quickly.”

Ana snorted. “Dr. Ziegler, maybe we should come back to this. There are other tests to run in the meantime.”

Angela took a deep breath and put away the cuff, instead picking up another tool. Before even bringing it near Sombra, she sighed. “Temperature. I am going to take your temperature.”

Sombra grumbled, crossing her arms, but nodded her assent. “How many more of these tests are there?”

“Many. Patience.” She held the tool up to Sombra’s forehead and read off a measurement of 36.7 degrees celsius, not reacting to Sombra’s almost imperceptible flinch. Ana took note, and noted the report in the appropriate blank. 

The lung exam went slightly smoother, Sombra only scowling when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched her skin, though she otherwise cooperated with Angela’s instructions to breathe in, cough, quit looking at the stethoscope like she wanted to burn it. That got a quick smirk out of Sombra, seemingly pleased to harass members of Overwatch even if she has to behave. 

The rest of the tests ran smoothly enough, with only a few snide looks from Sombra. Though she was still visibly uncomfortable and carried an air of disgust, she was no longer too tense for a measure of blood pressure and heart rate. 

“One more thing before I release you.”

“What is it, Ziegler.” Sombra’s tone was flat and unbothered as she absentmindedly rubbed the spot on her wrist where her pulse had been taken.

“I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Yeah, yeah, como quieras, doctor,” she said with a wave of her hand, getting up from the table and stretching her legs with the satisfied look of a cat that got the cream. 

Now it seemed Angela was the more tightly-wound of the two, though Sombra’s eyes still darted quickly around the room, on the lookout for threats in the small examination room. After a deep inhale through her nose, Angela asked in that ever-professional tone, “How much do you depend on your cybernetic augmentation?”

The look that bordered on relaxed vanished from Sombra’s face and every muscle went tense again. Ana caught herself reflexively moving her hand to her sidearm, but stopped and hooked her thumb into a coat pocket. There was no need to instigate something that could be resolved with civility.

“What do you mean?” The question was rhetorical and bit like a cornered animal that's been cornered before, ready to fight out with tooth and claw, though shrouded in a disguise of casual disdain. 

“I mean, how much do you depend on your augmentation? It is a basic question.” God, she looked tired as she questioned Sombra, the kind of tired that dug bags under your eyes and radiated around you to make everyone in your vicinity similarly exhausted. Ana made a mental note to bring her coffee later if the poor woman hadn’t already passed out at her desk. 

Sombra chewed her lip, wearing the same calculating look she’d worn before, though it didn’t surprise Ana as much on her as it had on Jesse. She cocked her head, sending locks of pink hair into her face and spending more time in thought than Ana could have expected, weighing the options of admitting weakness and overstating one’s abilities. Ana had seen it before, on young recruits deciding whether or not to lie about particular skills, or Fareeha deciding whether or not to claim she had done all her studying. The look fit Sombra, however, like a worn pair of jeans.

“I...need it,” Sombra finally said still wearing the calculating look as if she were going to analyze her success or failure. 

“Will you die or be caused pain or suffering were it to be disabled?” Angela asked. It surprised Ana how she ask something so ostensibly callous without a trace of malice or condescension. It was a question that needed to be answered, a fact needing ascertaining, and Angela Ziegler was nothing if not thorough. 

Sombra leaned back against the bench again. “It’s not that I’ll die, it’s just…” 

“It is just what? Please, I’d like to finish this and go about my day, and I’m sure you would too. We need to know for safety reasons the extent of the effects of your augmentations on your body’s natural limits.”

“I’ve had them for so long,” Sombra started, scratching the back of her neck. “They’re tied in to my senses, and if they go down, I’m, uh.” She stared down at her lap as if she could will the word to her mind.

“Disoriented?” Angela suggested.

Sombra shook her head. “No, stronger.”

“Lost?” Ana said, speaking up for the first time in a while. Sombra looked over with wide eyes, spooked as if she had forgotten Ana was there. 

“Yeah. That. So not death, not pain, but it’s bad. I don’t like it.”

“So,” Angela continued, ever the professional, “you would object to a localized EMP in exchange for more freedom around the base?”

This time, Sombra surprised Ana by not thinking at all.

“Of course I would, estás loca?” she immediately snapped back, fixing Angela with an incredulous stare. Ana could understand wanting to keep all her senses sharp in an unfamiliar place full of dubiously allied strangers, but wondered how long Sombra would put up with the constant watchful eye of Blackwatch and Overwatch in exchange. 

“Okay. So that is a no, and we are done.” Angela checked quickly to make sure Ana had written the last of the results, and nodded in satisfaction. “Please leave now. I have tasks to attend to.” 

Even before Ana could shuffle Sombra out, Angela had already turned back to her desk and leaned over a spread of papers, muttering something unintelligible to herself. 

With her lips upturned into a wry grin, Ana opened the door to gesture Sombra outside into the hallway then closed it again behind herself. Without looking, she knew the teenager would be scowling at nothing again, especially after the recent compromise. She also didn’t need a copy of Sombra’s report to remember the kid needed to eat more, too. There must be something about gangs not taking care of their young members, although that should be expected. 

“See? Dr. Ziegler is not all that bad.”

“Hmph. Whatever.” With her smeared paint and furrowed brow, Sombra looked more like a petulant child than a hardened criminal. Which is to say, she looked absolutely ridiculous and would definitely attract more unwanted attention than absolutely necessary. Someone so reliant on stealth and invisibility might act unpredictably if the entire base stares in justified curiosity.

“You know,” Ana stretched as she spoke, “I’m beginning to feel a bit peckish. Would you like to clean up and then get supper with me?”

Sombra still didn’t look up from some unbelievably interesting spot on the wall and snorted in derision. “I’m going to go wherever you go anyways, aren’t I? It’s not like there’s a lot of choice.”

“Fair.” Ana lowered her arms, then raised one hand to her chin and tapped her finger knowingly. “However…” she trailed off, as if thinking.

Not a full four seconds passed before Sombra looked up in irritation and snapped, “What?”

“Your face paint is smeared and messy, and you’re still dusty. You kind of stand out like a neon green thumb.” Ana smiled. From the shifting look on Sombra’s face, she knew she was getting somewhere. 

Sombra shifted her weight uncomfortably, looking slightly too far to the left to meet Ana’s eyes. “I always wear this. It’s so people know not to fuck with me.” A moment of silence. “Nobody wants to fuck with a Los Muertos skull, but if it’s not clear…” Another moment of silence, a quiet grinding of teeth. “I need to clean this off before these idiots get the impression I’m some sloppy kid. Where’s a bathroom?” She spoke authoritatively, as if she were the one in charge. 

Heh. Nice going, Amari. “I’ll take you there. Would you like a change of clothes with less dust--”

“Yes.” Sombra cut her off again, straightening up and blowing a stray lock of pink hair out of her face with a puff of breath. 

“We’ll stop and grab you some clean clothes on the way, then.” Amused, Ana led Sombra first to the commissary, where she had selected a black t shirt and black leggings for herself, along with a handful of necessities and toiletries for the shower. Once satisfied, Sombra followed Ana to the showers, where she quickly slipped into one of the stalls and kicked her pile of dusty clothes specked with blood and white flecks of ceiling tile under the stall door toward Ana. “If you’re gonna fucking babysit me, you may as well watch my shit. It better not mysteriously disappear.”

“Don’t worry, Sombra. I’ve got my eye on it,” Ana said with a chuckle, leaning back against the wall.

There was a momentary pause. “Hmph. You better.” The water switched on with a squeaky knob, followed by a shocked yelp and metallic fumbling. Ana stifled a chuckle behind her hand this time, knowing all too well the water on this base tended to run ice cold for the first few seconds before adjusting to a comfortable temperature.

She watched the steam hit the ceiling in a dense plume and fan out, slowly filling the room and spilling toward the door, which remained closed.  _ Sigh. _ She couldn’t even get out paperwork or emails to go over, as she would not be lax in her duties of watching this slippery kid. 

By the time the water finally switched off with another squeak, Ana had been almost ready to surreptitiously call backup to case the air ducts and hallways. The dripping of water on tile echoed in the silence of the room before the stall door cracked open and a hand thrust out expectantly. “Well?” Sombra said from behind the door. 

With a snort Ana passed the clean clothes and towel to Sombra’s hand, which disappeared back behind the stall door lightning quick. 

A few minutes later, Sombra emerged with a towel draped over her arm and damp mohawk clinging to the side of her face. A face now bare of the gaudy green paint, round and wary and young, oh so young. Why did the two new kids have to be  _ kids _ ? This girl seemed barely younger than Fareeha, yet in the last twenty-four hours she had gone from a member of an internationally recognized gang to a prisoner to a potential member of Blackwatch. Hell, Ana hadn’t even had a chance to call Fareeha or leave her a message since the events of the canyon.

“Yo, anyone in there?” Sombra waved her free hand in front of Ana’s face, cocking her head. “This isn’t a music video, staring wistfully into the mist isn’t poetic, it’s weird. And I’m hungry.”

The call of maternal instinct snapped Ana out of her reverie and she looked down at Sombra, who stood with crossed arms and that same scowl, albeit softer and less aggressive. Maybe it was just how her face rested. “Good. Wonderful, I’m  _ starving _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta reading is something you do a f t e r you post, right? HAHA. anyways if there's fuckups lmk im down to fix grammar and that shit.
> 
> friendly reminder that this is canon divergent, ive only fudged jesse's age a little, and am i gonna include moira? who knows?? even god doesnt know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good old-fashioned roller coaster, and a fist fight. I may have been hungry when I wrote this...

With a litany of reassurances that yes, all of her belongings would be returned to her, Sombra allowed Ana to drop her dusty and dirtied clothes off with the towel to be cleaned and later sent to her quarters. 

Even without her atrocious black and neon getup and body paint, Sombra’s posture and hair caught the staring eyes of passersby in the hallway. Walking at her side, Ana couldn’t help but notice the way Sombra shoved her fists into her pockets and curled her lip slightly as if to broadcast her overall disgust and lack of care, but kept her shoulders taut and her eyes alert, scanning every inch of her environment every second. The guarded posture stopped Ana from trying to make small talk with the young recruit. No point pressing her, bending till she breaks.

So after a tense, silent walk through the regular and ordered hallways of the base, the two arrived at the mess. The room that opened before them was wide and long, with surprisingly low ceilings, and packed with mismatched tables, stools, benches, and barrels filled with chattering and eating people. Along one wall was a veritable buffet and a line of hungry agents holding empty plates, talking about their days and gesturing so broadly that Ana was sure she could pin down specific events from all the way across the room. 

Reinhardt was not hard to spot, easily towering over the people around him, with the cowboy at his side seeming to slowly loosen up as he was included in the conversation of the table. He said something around a mouthful of potatoes and the table erupted in laughter, Reinhardt’s loud and booming as he clapped Jesse on the back. Ana smiled. 

As they passed by Ana made sure to position herself between Sombra and the table. Sombra didn’t seem to mind, still taking in the sheer chaos of the room with what seemed to be habitually distrusting eyes. 

“Ah! Captain Amari! I will be sure to save you two a seat!” Reinhardt raised an almost comically small glass of water in greeting. Ana smiled again at the cheerful mountain of a man, and gave nods of acknowledgements to the quick salutes of the agents sitting with him. They’d grown too used to her rather lax handling of authority and propriety, and had been warmly scolded too many times in the past to stand up and properly salute. She’d already reassured them it was a waste of everyone’s damn time, and even salutes were a little overboard. 

Jesse seemed too engrossed in his beans to notice the mild commotion of Ana and Sombra passing.

Once in line, Ana found herself again watching Sombra drink in every detail around her with eyes that tended to linger on weapons and food alike. Sombra had been quiet for some time. Ana cleared her throat. “So, I suppose Los Muertos didn’t have a mess quite like this?”

It seemed to take a moment for Sombra to realize she had been addressed. “We just kind of made our own and sometimes shared it. Didn’t have the place for something this big,” she said with an air of mild distraction.

“Oh, do you cook?” Even if Sombra wasn’t going to look at her as they spoke, Ana would at least attempt to make eye contact with what she hoped was a very reassuring smile. 

“Not really.”

Hmph. She seemed keen on remaining reticent if not slinging insults and jabs left and right. She may as well try, Ana thought. Ana may have not gotten involved in the interrogations, but to say she couldn’t wheedle information out of the quietest person would be a dreadful lie. It just took the right combination of questions, situation, and attitude. “Was there one person who usually cooked for you, then?”

Sombra’s brow furrowed and lips pressed tight together, knuckles white on her tray as she suddenly focused on a distant, empty patch of wall. Then, as soon as her demeanor shifted, it changed back. Sombra was a disaffected, annoyed teenager once more. “Yeah. For a while. But mostly I just got it on my own.”

Ana wasn’t stupid. She could recognize a dead end of questioning. Without missing a beat she asked, “Do you have a favorite food?”

Sombra rolled her eyes and looked at Ana, then looked away toward the front of the line for the buffet. A lock of hair rustled as she ineffectually tried to blow it out of her face. 

“Well I’m rather fond of sweets,” Ana continued, soldiering on. Eventually, Sombra would have something to say. “I’m your escort until another agent is free to keep an eye on you, so we will be spending some time together. I’ll be sure to get my hands on some of the better sweets here for you to try. We’re not all unpleasant all the time, you know?” A wink. Sombra of course didn’t turn to see the wink, but her shoulders shifted and Ana could feel the adolescent eyeroll in her soul. She smiled to herself in satisfaction at eliciting a response from the girl, no matter how annoyed. 

The line moved forward painfully slowly as everyone piled their plates high at the smorgasbord. Several minutes of silence in the midst of dinner chatter passed before Sombra spoke again. 

“So when's someone gonna come take me off your hands?”

Ana was taken aback by the sudden bluntness from the girl who had thus far barely talked to anyone here without threat of imprisonment. “I don't know. Why do you ask?”

“You said you're just waiting on someone else to free up and take your place.” Sombra gestured to the people in line and around the room. “These jackasses don't look busy, I'm sure one of them could tap in. Why waste a captain on babysitting?”

“First of all, I can knock you out in an instant,” Ana said, patting her sidearm. “But second, you're part of the team now. I will make sure you feel welcome.”

“By threatening to sedate me with a gun?”

“All part of the hazing process.”

They finally reached the self-serve buffet and loaded their plates. Sombra snuck a glance over at Ana’s plate, then supplemented her modest serving size until it almost exactly matched Ana’s. She was even less subtle in her attempt to surreptitiously grab as many rolls as she could fit in her pockets.

Ana led her charge back to the table occupied by Reinhardt and sat across from Jesse, allowing Sombra to take the seat at the end of the table and across from Reinhardt rather than boxing her in between Ana and a stranger. Team member though she may be, she was still visibly tense near the agents on base. Even sitting down to eat, Sombra sat with her knees angled away, her legs unencumbered by the table should she need to make a break for the exit. 

Across from Ana, Jesse looked up, narrowed his eyes at the other new recruit, then tucked back into his plate with a pointed snort. Beside him, Reinhardt extended a hand across the table to Sombra. 

“I am sorry, we have not met properly. I am Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm!” His hand remained steadfastly in the air above Sombra's plate and she looked up, then up further. She seemed to have forgotten Reinhardt’s towering height, at least for the moment. Around a mouthful of food, she spoke, sizing him up in a glance.

“...Sombra.” Evidently she didn't count him an immediate threat, and shook his hand, which comically engulfed her own. 

“Ah! It is lovely to make your acquaintance!” With another broad grin that squeezed his eyes so tight they seemed shut, he released her hand and turned instead to Ana. “Did Morrison and Reyes get,” he side eyed the two new recruits, “..settled back in?”

“Reyes is handling the paperwork and Morrison is catching up on internal affairs.” Commander Gabriel Reyes was drowning in the combined paperwork of the Blackwatch and Overwatch teams involved in the mission, along with the piles for the two new recruits. They were technically still criminals, after all. Pardons take time to process. Commander Jack Morrison should be sleeping, but was undoubtedly dozing off in a strategy meeting somewhere. “Did I miss anything while I was out?”

“Only Lena trying to combine parkour with some tweaking Winston tried out. I don't think she actually knows parkour, though.”

She cringed in sympathy for all who witnessed such an endeavor, and at her elbow, she heard a snort. 

Across the table, Jesse looked up from his food again, attention caught by the sound, but rolled his eyes and adjusted his hat before finishing his plate. 

Ana fielded requests from other agents to sight in their rifles to her exacting perfection, telling them they were better off trying to catch her at the range than at dinner, and questions about Fareeha’s studies. She knew college applications were coming up in her daughter’s near future, and while she wasn’t worried about her getting in anywhere she wanted, she was a bright and personable kid, Fareeha hadn’t indicated a preference for a school or major yet. Apparently, this answer wasn’t satisfactory and several passersby decided to put in their two cents about their own alma maters. She almost sighed in relief when Jesse slipped a word in edgewise.

“Hey, Wilhelm.”

“You know you can just call me Reinhardt! Everyone does.”

“Okay, well Reinhardt, I have a mighty need for some shuteye. It’s been a helluva day, y’know?”

“Oh! Of course!” Reinhardt extracted himself from the table and gave a quick nod of deference to Ana and a hearty pat on the back to the man next to him. “We will be going now, don’t get into any trouble while I’m away!” He winked at Ana with a huge, bright smile plastered across his face. She rolled her eyes. 

As both Reinhardt and Jesse got up to leave, Ana let herself quietly listen to the conversations around her, content. So far no incidents.

Then, she heard a shattering of ceramic flatware, shouting, and the beginnings of a fight to her immediate right. She had thought too soon. 

Jesse was pushing himself up, a broken plate and mug out in front of him, and Sombra’s foot behind him. “Why you damn…” Before Ana could react, Jesse grabbed Sombra by the leg and yanked her down to the ground, though she sprang up much more nimbly than he could.

Sombra bounced back, a devilish grin on her face as she moved out of the cowboy’s grabbing range. “Nice fall,  _ McCree _ .”

“You backstabbin’, lyin’, dishonest little bitch!” Jesse threw a right hook for Sombra’s face, but she ducked underneath his arm and swiped a leg out, sweeping his ankles and knocking him to the floor. She wobbled on the foot supporting her weight and landed on the ground herself, albeit less awkwardly than the cowboy had. Before she could stand back up, Jesse caught her ankle and tugged again, sending her sliding across the floor into his fists. 

“Watch it, pendejo,” she snarled with a bloody lip punch before he could land a second punch, slamming her knee into his stomach. As he reeled back, she sat up and rammed her head into his chin, leaving him stunned. 

“What the hell do you two idiots think you’re doing?” Ana said, finding her words again and standing.

They both looked up at her, both clearly dazed and having trouble focusing. In their moment of hesitation, Reinhardt swept in and grabbed each by the back of the shirt, careful to hold them out of reach of arm or leg of each other as he raised them back to their feet. 

“I mean you saw her, she started it!” Jesse said, pointing to some void between Sombra and Reinhardt. 

Well, she had barely seen what led up to the short brawl, but Sombra did seem to be the instigator. The look in her eye during the fight and the dawning realization on her face now implied as much. Sombra shook her head, though it seemed to be more for clearing the daze than denying guilt.

“I don’t care who started it, this is not how teammates interact! Have you seen anyone else here get into a dinner fight?” And things had been going so well. Now almost everyone in the room was watching.  _ Spectacular. _ She took a deep breath, swallowing her exasperation. “Commander Reyes gave both of you a second chance.”  _ And I’d had high hopes for both of you. _ “And you’d risk that for a petty rivalry?”  _ You’re both kids _ . 

Jesse’s shoulders slumped and he looked down toward the ground. Sombra looked pointedly looked to some spot on the floor out to the side, some ten feet away. Neither seemed to have words for what they had done, or had managed to concuss each other so hard they’d lost the powers of speech. The former seemed more likely. 

Another deep breath through her nose. “I’ll tell Gabe we’re headed his way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god is dead and the number of eyerolls in this chapter killed him. also pacing is for the weak, apparently. Fun Fact, my original idea for this fic stemmed from what I called the "Cafeteria Incident," so I'm s o g l a d that it's finally written out, like jesus, how long does it take to write??? dont ask me lol ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ (funny enough its also my least favorite so far, but win some lose some, ya know?)
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and kudos, you really keep make every minute writing worth it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day ends.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Gabe chuckled, leaning back in his desk chair as the occupants of the two chairs across from him shifted uncomfortably in their own. “I said no bullshit, but this? I expected this.”

“It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours and they already got in a fight with each other,” Ana said, incredulous. She didn’t want to turn these two kids out for one infraction, but Gabe didn’t even seem bothered by news of the fight and the bloody lip and nose in front of him.

“You saw these two in the canyon, right Amari? It was only a matter of time till they really tried to tear into each other.” The amusement left his eyes as he turned his attention back to Sombra and Jesse. “But that? That was it. If you two have anything left to work out, it better be with words or in a training room.”

Both nodded hastily.

Gabe looked past the two again, to Ana and Reinhardt standing behind their respective charges. “I’ll handle telling Jack about this. You four just get back to your business and keep it civil. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Jesse said.

“Perfectly.” Sombra said at the same time. The two recruits made quick eye contact, for the first time without evident malice from either party. 

“Great. Next time I see you, it better not be for dumb shit like this. I can only hold off Jack so much, so be smart. You both have a chance for a clean start,” Gabe said, then looked behind them to Ana and Reinhardt again. “They're all yours again. I recommend tagging out and getting some rest. On that note, you're all dismissed.”

As they left, Ana looked over her shoulder and caught one last look of Gabe shaking his head and almost laughing to himself. 

The two groups parted ways, and once again Ana was walking down an empty hallway with Sombra. The recruit was sulking as before, though the new addition of the split lip seemed to make her even more withdrawn and wary. Ana let the silence hang for a time, uncomfortable as it was, before pressing an open wound. 

“What made you think that was a good idea?” she asked flatly, staring ahead and only glancing at her charge out of the corner of her eye. She had enough experience as a mother let alone an officer to know the pressure of an authority's gaze would do nothing but make her clam up more. 

Sombra shrugged, not looking up from the expanse of floor before her. “You know me and him aren't gonna just make nice and get along.”

“And why is that?” The  _ you'll have to _ died before it reached her tongue. Telling a teenager they have to do something rarely achieved anything. 

“Have you seen him? Have you seen his  _ crew? _ ” As Sombra’s tone grew more heated and her fists tightened in her pockets, sending a taut line up to her shoulders, Ana realized this was the most real emotion Sombra had allowed herself to show so far. 

“His old crew. And they abandoned him,” Ana corrected gently. 

“Deadlock’s just a bunch of gun runners, they don't care who they sell to as long as they turn a profit. We at least try to change things!” 

“You're both trying to change things now, because both of you were left behind by your gangs. Or do I need to remind you again?”

Sombra fell quiet. “...that's different.”

“It doesn't matter, because you're both here now. If you don't have another incident like that, you might even stay.”

When Ana looked back over, Sombra’s lips were pressed into a thin line. She was done talking, it seemed. The remainder of the walk back to Sombra's dorm passed in silence. With a nod of acknowledgment, they parted ways and Sombra slipped inside. Before the door finished closing, Ana could see her hastily unloading rolls into a pillow. 

\--

Sombra flopped back onto her bed with a sigh. Pushing her usually meticulously-spiked hair from her face, she gave the room a cursory glance. Her old clothes were in a neat stack as promised, including her custom jacket. At least Over Black Watch or whatever had kept that promise. 

Staring at the ceiling, she toyed with the possibility of planning an escape. As long as she didn't get distracted by the promise of usable intel…no. She'd tried to escape already and raised their suspicions. It was unlikely she would make it out quite so easily as she had almost done before. If she was caught trying to sneak away again, she would go to prison. Reyes’s eyes hadn't lied when they made their agreement. She would be sent to a high security facility and they would disable her cybernetics and she would lose her sixth sense. 

Amid the thrum of fear of this possibility, she snorted to herself. There's not just five senses, there's also the sense of balance, temperature, and pain, among others. Her cybernetics were more like a ninth or tenth sense, but a sense all the same. They provided data about her environment and body, allowed her to feel and meddle in the movement of data across wires and circuits. She could freely access the net, but without a screen it was a difficult and finicky task, her mind unwilling to focus on just one page long enough to take in all the info. 

While she mulled over her relationship with the circuits in her spine and head and slowly soothed the fears of losing them altogether, she found herself throwing small geometric shapes into the air above her face, letting them dissolve and disappear in a rain of pixels before making a new one. They were crooked and irregular, but as she turned her attention toward them they began to straighten out. First an even cube, then a pyramid of equilateral triangles, then an eight sided shape of triangles, then back to a cube. 

She practiced making these mindless shapes as her eyelids grew heavy, and finally drifted to the still, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long, life got to be a little much in the interim! But every time I got a notification of a comment I sat down and wrote, even when it was slow going. A long wait for not a lot of action, but ;)
> 
> Thank you again for the comments and kudos, they mean so much to me!! <3)


End file.
